Breathe
by pumped.up.kicks86
Summary: A short one Shot, set some time after the dust of war has settled. The mother of Dragons has a plan to cement a lasting peace between the North and the South all she needs is for Jon and Sansa to see things her way.


Daenerys 

She hadn't told them about the witch, about her dried up insides. It wasn't a matter of fear, they couldn't dethrone her, she had Dragons and thousands of people who loved her. She needed an heir, a lineage. She needed someone who she could trust to keep the peace between the north and the south, someone with respect for both. She had looked to Jon, he and his Maester were playing 'Old Tom's heart' a convoluted card game from the wall. He hated the south and she knew it, but when she discovered her blood flowed elsewhere she had to keep him close, to make him family and for the most part she'd succeeded. He loved her like she was his sister, she knew that, he was grateful to know his family and treated her with reverence and kinship in equal measures. But he wasn't happy. He didn't want for company but he was lonely, too hot even in the winters cold, oft sullen and withdrawn. The only real friend he had was the Maester he'd brought with him, a fat man with a secret wife and baby she wasn't supposed to know about, and even then mostly all they talked about was how much they preferred the North.

Daenerys had thought, she had consulted with her hands the imp and the spider, she had even gone as far as to ask her dragons. A wife was needed for Jon Snow Stark Targaryen, he had chosen his middle name and she rarely allowed them said in public. In Public he was Prince Jon of the house Targaryen. He was loved, more loved than she'd expected, dark, beautiful, brooding, handsome and viciously honourable. He was every girl in courts dream husband, but he wanted none. 'how can he fall in love when he's already married to the bloody north' that's what Tyrion had said, and he was right. How indeed… his words had knocked something in her brain over an inch and suddenly all her problems seemed to have one simple solution, her eye's had widened and her mouth had curved into that satisfied smirk she got when she knew she was winning, the spider had looked at her with a mirror smile and whispered 'The mother of Dragons once on a course never veers'. Yes, she had a solution to the Jon problem, to the heir, to everything. Winterfell.

She had sent a raven the night of her meeting with the hands, a simple missive "Wolf and Dragon". It was their words, the words of the queens. The North had earned its freedoms be It by protecting the realm from the undead or providing her with family, either way when she'd received word from the queen of the north politely asking 'are the North freemen or will we have to take it, again?' the girl had signed the note 'mother of wolves' she had smiled. Danny hadn't taken kings landing yet. Many of the horse men had perished on the water and the Westeros banner men were lining up to challenge her, she hadn't feared, she could burn it all to the ground if she'd wanted. But she hadn't wanted that, she'd wanted a kingdom. The North were the wild cards and so she'd replied 'Help me win the South and the North is yours' and on the third day of the third moon after she'd sent the messenger an army had amassed at her side. The girl kissed by fire riding a fierce black stallion ahead of her men, she had brought men and in return wanted dragons to burn the undead. An accord was reached and a kingdom taken and divided with as little fuss as possible. Jon had stayed south with her after it all.

And so she had found herself astride her Dragon with Jon clutching on behind her, he didn't enjoy flying but he had bonded with the dragons who all seemed rather fond of his dire wolf, on their way to the Wolf and Dragon, or The Twins as they'd once been known. The official border between the North and the South. The Northern queen had replied and already set out with her guard on wolf sleds through the thick snow, it was truly the only way to travel in the North. When she and Jon arrived and she waved her dragon back to the south she was greeted by a smiling staff dressed in grey furs, it was very cold indeed. They ushered her into the Dragon keep and helped her change, a group did the same for Jon who was damp from flying too high.

"The Northerners are already here your Grace." Ser Domrick of the house Tully said calmly as he placed a fox fur hood over his queen's white hair.

"Well, let us hurry, Is she in the small keep?" She asked as she pulled fur lined boots over her now dry feet.

"Yes your Grace for almost an hour." The old knight said, Sansa Stark always had to be first. Jon was grinning surreptitiously, the thought of his cousin pelting down south just to vex the queen seemed to please him. "You won't be grinning for much longer" Daenerys hadn't meant to say it aloud but she had and he frowned. She twirled on her heel before he could question her further, and marched purposefully to the small keep which was built in the very middle of the Twins long bridge. It had a second floor, in which sat a large table, a fire place and a very cocky looking Sansa Stark, queen in the North. She had a wolf at her heel as was her way and no soldiers, that was the way of the small keep, a private and safe place for the queens to meet. Daenerys eyed the wolf, they had an unspoken agreement on the massive, throat ripping dire wolves.

"I couldn't leave Nymeria" she said as she stood to greet the queen "She's pregnant" Sansa grinned happily.

"Ah, a blessing on your house." Daenerys said only half kidding as she sank into the bear skin chair she'd had custom made for this room. Jon entered as she got comfortable and grinned at Sansa, his head bowed ever so slightly.

"Jon." The girl with fire hair gasped excitedly before flinging herself into her kinsman's arms "You didn't fly on the dragon did you?" she asked with a look of shock as she held the man at arm's length to better look at him.

"I did." That foolish grin remained on his face.

"Shall we sit; I have something most pressing to discuss." Daenerys smiled, but her tone indicated impatience. They acquiesced, and sat side by side, Daenerys hadn't accounted for this, she'd assume he'd join her on her side of the table but he'd sat on the wolf side naturally. In all fairness he did have a right to both. It didn't irk her however, it spurred her to persevere with her plan of action.

"Here are the problems we face" Daenerys started with a warm expression eyeing the two carefully "Jon is unhappy in the south" she paused for a second to see if he'd deny it, he didn't "Queen Sansa there are whisperings of some unsettled Lords who wish for you to be wed" the northern queen nodded sourly "I am wed but have yet to fall pregnant" that's because I can't she thought sadly "Jon must be wed but seems to dislike everyone and This very delicate peace we have cultivated relies entirely on our mutual respect. How do we ensure this remains? How do we solve all our problems?"

"Do you have an answer your grace?" Sansa asked with a grimace, the idea seemed daunting to the northern girl.

"Yes." Daenerys stood from the bear skin throne and leaned across the table. "You two are to be wed." it wasn't a question, it was a statement, an order.

"To who?" Jon asked dampening her grand moment slightly.

"To each other." She said as though it were as plain as the noses on their faces.

There was silence, you could hear a pin drop.

"no." Sansa stood, she didn't look angry. Sad perhaps, perplexed most definitely.

"Your Grace" Daenerys had a good idea that the Northern queen never wanted to marry again. And if the whispers were to be believed she had good reason, but the southern queen had already planned for this "Think on it, he is not your brother but he is your kin and perhaps a girl so cautious as yourself would do better with someone she trusts."

"and what do you get?" it was Jon's turn to speak, he was eyeing her with suspicion and seemed to be taking a defensive stance.

"an heir" she said plainly if not a little wounded.

"You want me to bed my brother and give you the baby?" Sansa shot.

"again he is not your brother. And no… I want the baby raised in Winterfell until it's 12th name day. There will be holidays to the neck to meet with me and my Dragons, and then the child will come to Kings Landing but with a full appreciation for the North and a love for it and then your next child will come to kings landing too, but only to be a ward for a few years and he or she will return North and rule. The north and south shall be sisters; peace will reign true… unless of course I do get with child… in which case your first born will Rule the North and His cousin the south, my child will be your ward for several years and we will still have that connection." She had laid it out, it was valid and it made sense and it solved almost everything. The two remained in uncomfortable silence, both glowering at her.

"Let us return to our keeps, and think on this?" Daenerys hadn't expected an answer, she'd expected silence, refusal and confusion. But she wasn't to be veered.

Jon

"She wants you to do what?" Samwell had arrived later that night, he'd left Kings Landing a week before Jon to ensure their joint arrival.

"Marry Sansa." Jon repeated, it bore repeating.

"Well she isn't your sister…" Sam was trying to be encouraging in that way he always was, trying to see the bright side. "And she's very pretty, and the queen has a valid point."

"Why? is she planning on not having children?" Jon asked, that was the part he couldn't get a full grasp on. Her little speech had made him feel like the future of Westeros and the North lay totally on the shoulders of him and his… cousin.

"Perhaps she can't Jon, perhaps all those fires have melted her baby making parts." Samwell responded fancifully.

"I can't marry her Sam." Jon said as he scrubbed at his forehead.

"The queen is right though Jon, Sansa must marry." Sam said softly "and who would she have after all she's been through." It had been Sam who'd help nurse the broken arm and swollen cheek they'd found her with in that Monster Hardyng's keep, she'd tried to escape and they'd given her a beating.

Jon shrugged dejectedly, there was nobody, nobody he thought fit enough.

"and you, you're too home sick for anything else… you could go back North. We all could" Sam said wistfully.

"She's my sister." He repeated clenching his fists.

"She's not Jon, and by your account she never really was. You said yourself she was always distancing herself. It's not like it's little Arya you're marrying." Samwell said her name like he knew her, like they knew where the hell she was. "It's an arranged betrothal Jon, nobody is going to think you've secretly wanted your sister. Nobody is going to think you're anything like the King Slayer." Samwell could read his mind he was sure.

"It's little Sansa" He groaned, as if this explained everything. But she wasn't little Sansa, she was as tall as him now. She'd fought, been broken, been a bastard… she'd returned to Winterfell a woman on a mission, no more tears were shed for songs of knights, no more sewing, no more sniping. She was completely focused on her land, her North and how to keep it safe. They had barely spent a pleasant minute in each other's company, from the moment she'd returned to the moment he'd left with his 'real' family they'd been in complete peril. Every second had been thick with impending doom, they'd walked about with twin knots in their guts and lead in their hearts and before that they'd been children with little to no interest in each other. She liked him now, and he her, this much he knew. She was glad to spend time with him when they could and even during the long night and the war with the dark she'd been kind and encouraging to him, she'd been the little voice telling him he could save the world, and on occasion standing shoulder to shoulder holding his hand in hers and saying softly "breathe".

"She's a grown woman, and the queen is not wrong… I heard from Maester Lightwill in Barrow that his Lord has proposed a husband be picked for her whether she want it or not. Jon you are a noble born man, with ties to the north… You aren't a bastard and you won't hurt her or try to steal her throne." Sam seemed sold on the idea, a little too sold.

"She asked you to sway me" Jon accused, a finger pointed at the rotund and blushing Maester.

"The queen explained her plan to me before I left, I happen to agree with her." The Maester responded with the even tones of Maester Lewin.

Jon shrugged and shot his best friend a deathly glare before pulling his cloak back on and storming from the room. He let his feet carry him where they willed as he replayed _everything_ , it had been seven years since he'd left Winterfell for the wall, seven years since he was normal. Three years since he discovered his parentage and two since he found out he had never been a bastard. Howland Reed had come to the shell of Winterfell to bow the knee to the queen in the North and help fight off the walkers. He'd seen Jon standing there at his 'sisters' side and he'd sighed 'you can't break an oath to a dead man' he'd uttered before requesting a private council with her majesty and Jon. Later that day in a small stuffy room, the three of them had sat and Howland had unburdened the secret he had kept for too long 'I served with your father, and I knew all his secrets' he'd said it to Sansa but Jon had replied 'You know my mother?' the old man had nodded sadly 'aye lad and your father, you're not the son of Ned Stark, you never were boy. You're the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen and no matter what old Robert said, you were born of love boy, your mother loved that prince.' The old man had scrubbed his face as if finally allowed to remove the liars mask he'd been forced into by Ned all those years ago. 'she died bringing you forth, she was only a little thing but you are her image boy. Ned knew Robert or the Lannister's would kill you, so he brought you home and named you his. And that's all I know of it. You can't break an oath to a dead man' he'd repeated before standing and leaving the pair, no longer brother and sister alone to process it all. Jon had been furious and then sad and the furious again, he didn't quite know how he should have felt. He knew why his father had lied, but he could have told his lady wife to ease her hatred… to ease his nephew's torment. Sansa had sensed his fury; she'd opted to lay a small hand on his forearm. "breathe" she's whispered, and he'd acquiesced.

The bastard part had probably been the most shocking, and he still did not truly believe it. The spider had told him, he'd been reluctant to change his name even though he'd been formally legitimized by his aunt… but it felt like a cheat 'you can't be a Snow because you've never really been a Snow' the fat bald man had appeared from nowhere to make the grand and cryptic statement. On further questioning the spider and looked around the room with a grimace 'everyone out' he'd shouted clapping his hands, clearing the Solar of all staff 'Jon Targaryen, what I speak of here goes no further. I tell you this out of respect for your father, sorry uncle Ned and because of all the people in this little game we play I feel you the most have been short-changed for your sacrifices.' He'd looked at him knowingly, and at that moment Jon knew that the spider was well aware of his "awakening" that unspoken time when he'd been dead… and then hadn't been 'before I was in Kings Landing I was in the tower of Joy, I was purchased as a wedding gift. A companion for a princess in a tower, hidden from the war as she was with child. A princess who married her love before the last heart tree in Dorne while kingdoms fell apart for her, you are not a bastard Jon Snow. Your father stood with old gods even though he was born in the seven just so that he could marry your mother.' Jon still wasn't sure if this was truth, the spider could weave a pretty web and there was so much more he wanted to ask but the master of whispers did not like discussing his past when it wasn't necessary.

Jon found himself in the centre of the bridge and gulped a lungful of cold northern air into his body, savouring its crisp clean quality. The taste of smoke and salt he so loved. "Hello."

Sansa

"I fear I cannot have a baby" the mother of Dragons stood in Sansa's chamber, her face paler than usual. "I have not said these words to another living soul, but I feel we are bonded. Both our fathers killed by the same house, both our families slain for crimes they did not commit. Both babes of war" The queen of the south had gulped nervously "I need an heir" she looked nervous, but Sansa knew the Southern woman well enough to see that while she might be telling the truth she was using her current vulnerability to sway Sansa.

"Jon will find a girl."

"He will not, he is married to the North, he wants home and only you can offer him that." The Dragon queen seemed to lose some of the manipulation she had displayed before, this seemed real to Sansa.

"I… He looks at me and sees a little girl. He will not think of me like that your grace." Sansa worried at the sleeve of her gown.

"We are equals, so perhaps for the sake of both our egos and sanity in these rooms we are Sansa and Daenerys?"

"Daenerys, we were brother and sister for most our life... I do not think he will see past that." Sansa said carefully.

"But you can?" the mother of Dragons had sat on the bed beside the Wolf girl.

"My mother she was not kind to him, and I emulated her. She wished him not to exist and so rarely saw him so I did the same. Jon only really became _my_ brother when he saved me from Harrold and soon after that he was no longer my brother but my cousin. But he is a better man than I, he saw a sister when he looked to the horrible little girl with fire hair and her nose stuck up in the air, referring to him oh so deliberately as her "Half Brother" he may not have been my brother but I was his sister"

"So you're not opposed to marrying him?" Daenerys seemed to be smiling.

"I didn't say that." Sansa stood, frustration coursing through her veins, she was loathed to admit that on hearing of the possibility of a forced marriage she had already considered writing Jon and asking him to enter into a charade marriage… just pretend to appease the Lords… but babies would be expected and he, and she… they couldn't "I'm just saying I'm less opposed than he probably is." Sansa huffed and pulled her cloak on over the gown she'd chosen for dinner "My Grace I need to walk" she said with no further explanation. She assumed the Mother of Dragons would join her knights who had arrived with Sam as they sledged on the Wolf side of the river. The southerners side on snow for fun, the northerners for necessity. She marched through the corridors, her brow furrowed in annoyance as she weighed out her other options. There really were none, the north had lost most of its young noble men, old Lords were taking young wives to try and repopulate the keeps. She was stuck between and un knighted soldier or an old man… or Jon. It wouldn't be the worst thing, she told herself as she found her feet hitting the timber steps that led to the stone bridge. And she'd seen him, standing their almost peaceful staring North "Hello" she said as she moved almost silently in her kid skin boots to stand beside him.

"Did you know? Did she warn you she'd propose this?" Jon asked, the niceties could wait.

"no." Sansa replied calmly

"She told Sam, a week ago and he didn't say anything to me." He looked forlornly at her and she couldn't help the grin than cracked her face.

"Oh I see, it's that your wife has been keeping secrets from you that's got you vexed! You know the queen said you were married to the North; she was wrong you're married to Samwell… I should go tell the Maester to box up your house cloak and put me back on the shelf you're already spoken for!" she laughed breathily as she told her little joke and watched as Jon attempted to remain stern faced, but saw his brow twitch and the sides of his lips tremble with mirth.

"they haven't really got my wedding cloak?" he asked through laughter.

"they do indeed Jon, your queen just came to have words with me. We can be married tomorrow if we wish and feast in the fortnight with our banner-men. We need only say the word" her voice dripped with incredulity.

"If we have a sudden ceremony people will assume you're with child" Jon said, but his expression indicated he wasn't entirely sure why he had.

"I think a lack of my belly swelling or a babe in the next months would quell that rumour." She stopped and looked at him seriously "Jon we are standing here on the Twins discussing this like it's real, like it is something we are considering doing. Are we?" her voice had gone that high way; the way it always did when she was nervous.

"No… Yes… I don't know Sansa!" he grunted in annoyance and looked away from her "I was your brother and… the part of me that was your brother wants to marry you just so you don't have to marry some brute! And I think that maybe we could pretend… but I know we can't"

"breathe" she reminded him

"I don't know." He concluded, he had clearly done his best to articulate the cyclone of emotions currently whirring through his brain. "because we couldn't just pretend, it would have to be real, we'd have to…" he scrunched his nose.

"I understand" she patted his hand, she wasn't a child. She knew what he was saying, they had to make babies and beside that… they had to make love. She knew no matter how hardened her heart now she would not be able to live her life without feeling it, even if it wasn't the heart stopping love at first glance she'd read about. Even if it was the slow build of mutual respect and attraction… and all those things her mother and father had cultivated… she had to feel it and pretending wouldn't be enough. "we should find out then." She said suddenly, she wasn't sure either but a part of her, the part of her that oft wondered 'what would Arya do' had taken control and curiously prodded at the enigma before her.

"What?" Jon asked, finally looking at her.

"We should find out if there's the possibility that it won't be entirely pretend" she barely elaborated as she straightened her dress.

"Sansa?" he looked bewildered, in that special way that only he could. Like a dog who'd lost a bone he'd only had seconds before.

"Jon. Everything the Dragon mother has said is self-serving, she needs an heir … but she is not wrong about my future prospects. The lords intend on having a tourney for my hand… my maidenhood will go to the man who can swing a pole at another man most accurately. This arrangement" she pointed between them both "it might not be ideal nor entirely romantic, but it will serve me too. I don't want some oaf dragging me about like property, I don't want to be trapped under some old lord I have no love for. I have love for you; it may not be the right kind of love but if it could be then I will it should." She took a deep breath before looking at him with intent "It serves you too Jon, you can come home and be Lord of Winterfell… it's your dream." He had never told her that but she could imagine the bastard son of Winterfell had dreams like this.

"How do we find out?" Jon asked, "Do you want me to stay North for a while, spend time…" he didn't get to finish.

"Kiss me." Sansa was nervous but determined, there was nothing wrong or salacious about this, she was a young queen without parents testing the waters of a possible suitor.

"Excuse me?" he was almost laughing, so taken aback was he.

"Step forward, be a man and kiss me Jon Snow" she used his old name, a small almost playful smile tugging at her lips "I saw you practicing in the Gods wood with Lyrana Codwell the cook's daughter when you were 12 so I know you can Jon Snow"

"Kiss me" she repeated, tilting her chin defiantly.

Jon

Surviving, fighting and life had chipped at Sansa's smooth and perfected exterior of childhood and left something rather interesting. Jon had laughed when she'd said it, and had been a little shocked to discover despite having been married and betrothed she was still a maid, she wasn't a little girl and perhaps he could do more than pretend.

"Kiss me" she repeated, tilting her chin defiantly.

And for a second, when just his gut was in charge he really did want to.

"Sansa, I don't know" he tried to start again, to explain to her that he didn't want to be like those scummy Lannisters without implying that she was somehow like them for entertaining the idea. Because he could see why she would, why he was her best option, her safe option.

"Neither of us know Jon, that is why I have suggested we try, I have been told by my maids and the girls in the vale that a woman _knows_ when she is kissed if there is a 'spark' a seed of love which has possibility to bloom. I have been kissed by princes and Kings, lords and lute players I have had mouths thrust upon mine and not once have I felt anything. If you kiss me and it feels the same, I'll know that we are not meant and that the pretence of a marriage would be unfair… I'll go back to Winterfell circle the keep with wolves and maul anyone who tries to force me to marry." She tried to grin but her lips trembled with uncertainty

Jon knew that spark, he had felt it once, he knew her words to be true. He also felt sadness that the young woman who stood before him, his kin had never.

"alright" he barely said the words as he closed the gap between them, preparing for the repulsion he was sure was about to hit him like a wave. He raised his right hand and cupped her up tilted chin and lowered his face to hers. His breath quickened a little as he paused, still waiting for the revulsion and sickening to start. It did not. He closed the final few centimetres and finally his lips were on hers he was chaste but even then he felt the stir in his gut, not the unpleasant one he had initially expected, but the churn of anticipation. He prepared to end the contact but Sansa was kissing him now, her lower lip was nestled between his own closed ones and he felt the warm wetness of the inside of her upper lip slip against his own. It took everything to keep his mouth closed, to keep the kiss chaste, to keep all semblance of honour. As quick as her attack had started it was over and she was stepping back from him with wide eyes, the back of her left hand pressed against her lips.

"oh" was all she said as she took another step backwards

"Sansa…" he stepped forward, to reach for her, to what? To kiss her again? He'd never be sure for they were interrupted by a shout from Wolf Keep

"There you two are, I'm feasting in Wolf hall tonight the North have the better ale, join us!" The mother of Dragons called, if she'd seen anything her face and tone were not giving it away. Sansa was still staring at him, like he was a puzzle. She had felt it, he could tell by her shocked and dazed expression but now she was wondering if he had too.

He had, his heart still raced.

"Breathe." He whispered as he took her hand and led her North.


End file.
